


Wretched Cries of the Sincerely Austere

by chiixil_84



Series: Acquisitive Adventurers [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Azeroth, Death Knight, Death Knights - Freeform, Demon, Demons, Draenor, Gen, OC, OCs - Freeform, Old Gods, Other, Warlock - Freeform, Warlocks, World of Warcraft - Freeform, World of Warcraft: Cataclysm, World of Warcraft: Legion, World of Warcraft: Mists of Pandaria, World of Warcraft: The Burning Crusade, World of Warcraft: Warlords of Draenor, World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King, outland - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 18:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16124291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiixil_84/pseuds/chiixil_84
Summary: As a child, she had always dreamed of a bright future with the Highborne heralding that enterprise, but her parents -- practicing demonology in secret -- held other plans for their daughter's path. Nezzrra watched and experienced the wonderous and destructive powers of the Twisting Nether first-hand at their careful mentoring, but with their violent deaths brought a newfound craving that the young warlock could not find within the Sunwell's gracious power.Her pursuit of the fel delivered her into a death knight's arms, bringing their lives to a destructive (and quite messy) head.In life, Sungrisk had been a powerful Zandalari hunter, enticed with the loas' whispers of power and an eternal empire to not foresee his own abrupt end; in undeath, he has become reclusive and as poisonous as the Scourge flowing in his veins, unable to repel the lust he still has for blood.Blending lives isn't as easy as it looks.





	Wretched Cries of the Sincerely Austere

Tripping over the threshold of her room, the little High Elf held four velvet pouches close to her chest with one hand as she used the other to shut her door, careful not to slam it and wake her parents. She wasn’t usually so clumsy, but tonight held importance, and she needed to remain as quiet as possible; she’d barely kept herself quiet going through the halls getting the materials that she needed, and the last thing she wanted was to spoil her plans so soon.

Moonlight drifted into her room lazily, cascading a soft glow on her carpet that just barely illuminated the space she needed to work. Against the opposite wall the little High Elf’s shadow was cast, the dark shadow hardly moving despite her little feet pitter-pattering across the floor as she tried to set up her experiment quickly. Placing the black purses down carefully on her golden vanity, she moved to flip her carpet over itself, grunting as the heavy carpet struggled to move. She pushed it as many times as her little arms were able, breathing slightly heavily as, after a few minutes, she revealed a space on the bare floor.

Where the ornate carpet had once been, a hastily drawn circle was on display, the runes carved into the wooden floors with something no sharper than a letter opener but just as messy as if she had used her fingernails to dig into the floorboards. None of the runes looked entirely legible, nor did they seem to be any conventional summoning runes; etched along the mage runes was an edge that was all too twisted, too demonic, for someone her age to be tampering with.

However, the High Elf was proud of what she had created in the floorboards of her room.

It was  _hers_ , and she would be the one to use this.

 _Just like my parents taught me_ , the novice warlock thought, excitement bubbling into the back of her throat. She couldn’t wait to show them what she would pull from the nether.

Perhaps it would be a felhunter? Or, maybe, a beholder?

Running a hand through her flaming hair, carefully working her slender fingers through the knots, the little High Elf wiggled her fingers through and out of her hair as she decided on what she should do next, not wanting to forget any of the steps.  _Prepare the ingredients? Or begin the chant?_  she wondered, chewing on the edge of her bottom lip as she circled the summoning plane, crossing her arms in thought.

Eventually, she decided to begin her protections first, retrieving one of the pouches and sprinkling its contents over the circle’s indention. She recited a few phrases out of habit rather than necessity as she moved, taking care to make sure the runes were entirely covered by with the wood ash she wrote with: “From the earth in which you were born, I bring forth a plea to bind my enemy to this plane with the fire that burned you.”

The runes slowly solidified, as if flinching in response to what she asked. Once she completed her redrawing with the wood ash, she opened another pouch and took out three vials, their names scrawled on the glass:  _basil, sage, verbena._ Each one she took and sprinkled it over the wood ash, repeating her plea as she added these three ingredients to the drawing. In turn, the circle brightened, as if acknowledging her words and supplying the protections she requested.

Once she emptied the vials of their contents, she spat in the middle of the rune set, saying, “I bring forth a plea for your spirits to do my bidding in this realm.”

The runes began to twinkle as she finished her utterance, but weren’t emitting the light from itself, instead swallowing the moonlight that hit it and reflecting it back tenfold.

Despite the increased light illuminating her room, her shadow remained still against the wall, as if it were holding its breath, watching.

However, the little elf didn’t notice her shadow’s odd behavior, continuing her preparations obliviously.

Knowing she would be safe once her summoning had begun, the young warlock let off a small sigh of relief. She had never been good at protection spells, and was glad she got this one right, at least.

The little elf returned to pacing around the circle, deciding to next offer up her ‘sacrifice.’

Taking her brush off her vanity, she ripped the already-shed hairs from its bristles and placed it in the center of the circle before reaching back to grab for another of the pouches. Carefully, she took out a raw, 6-ounce steak and a few dark mushrooms and put them carefully atop the pile of hair, sprinkling more of the basil on top of the food.

She had debated on whether or not to give more than just beef and some edible fungi as an offering to whatever minion happened to come through her summoning, but thought anything would be better than what the Twisting Nether would offer.

_Besides, I can make them mana cakes later if they_ _’_ _re still hungry._

For the fourth pouch, she held it carefully as if it were a newborn babe, retrieving a singular vial from within this black purse.

A claw as black as blood-stained earth and as awful smelling as the sea on the morning of a funeral, it was no larger than her forefinger and seemed too blunt to be held behind such protections.

Or, what  _had_  been its protections: her parents had kept this, along with other unusual ingredients, hidden away in a closet behind barrier spells and glamour so no one would see what it was.

 _It belonged to a great foe, once,_  her parents had said in response to any questions she may have had about it before.  _Not many have obtained something like this from him, and certainly, we may never get it again. It is for something special we have yet the time or ability to control._

She had retrieved it earlier that day when her parents had asked her to get the whisker of a boar, or whatever, for the summoning of something that turned out to be something akin to a burnt dog with tentacles on its face, having promised herself that she would put it back  _the moment_  she was done.

“This would count as a special purpose, I suppose,” the High Elf child murmured, unplugging the cork and letting the talon slide over her hand to inspect.

Just as it touched her skin, the talon sliced her palm, blood splattering over the wood ash. With a surprised hiss, the child quickly went to stem the bleeding, accidentally dropping the talon onto the floor just within the protection circle.

The runes, and her shadow, pulsed in a slow but purposeful rhythm as the talon was discarded in her haste, the room seemingly holding its breath as she worked to stem the flow, quiet curses escaping her lips as tears pricked her eyes.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, she saw the blood slow in intensity.

“I’ll explain this to my parents later,” she told herself firmly, puffing her chest, looking back to the pulsing circle’s lights as she wiped the corners of her eyes. “They’ll be  _so_  proud of me once they see what I’ve done.”

_If they_ _are supposed to be_ _proud, why have you been sneaking around to accomplish this?_

Shaking the question, the child tenderly used a hairpin to flick the talon onto the pile with the food and her hair, deciding it best to not directly touch it again – ever, if at all possible.

As the ingredient came together, she took one last breath to compose herself before beginning her first summoning.

 _I_ _’_ _m not going to fail again,_  she vowed.

Reciting a quick spell to call forth a flame no larger than her thumb, she held its warmth over her uninjured hand before allowing it to touch the wood ash. It sizzled along the edges of the protection spell like gunpowder, the incense trickling up to the canopy of her room and hanging there like a thundercloud rumbling in the distance.

She cleared her throat and began, her words shaky, “I c-call forth the presence of whoever accepts my offering, t-to make a pact and... and be...” She closed her eyes tightly, unable to believe that  _now_ , of all times, she was forgetting the words. She’s been practicing for weeks; how could she forget her  _own_ incantation!

“Be your guard as you are my anchor,” a voice finished as her words fell off, its voice sounding far away and no louder than a whisper.

Before she could react, an explosion threw her back against her bed, throwing loose things from her vanity and dressers onto the ground. The  _boom_  of the detonation was deafening, threatening to swallow her as she screamed into the noise, feeling everything rip apart and sew itself back together instantaneously, watching as dismembered limbs climbed through the void to rip at her mind for a foothold, her throat sore as she begged for it all to  _stop—_

Only to find herself, and her room, completely fine.

Though she  _had_  been thrown several feet and pinned down by the sheer force of the shockwave, she was able to stand before the creature in her summoning circle without a graze on her and her room back in order as it had been before the detonation.

“How did you do that?” she asked quietly, more awestruck than terrified in this moment.

The imp smiled up at her, its lidless, golden eyes shining in the moonlight and fires of her wood ash. “Your incantation was pretty cute,” it replied smoothly, crossing its arms over its chest. “It became catchy after the seven thousandth time.”

Blushing, she asked, “You could  _hear_  me? All the way from the Twisting Nether?”

With a nonchalant shrug, the imp answered, leaning down to pluck one of the now-charred mushrooms with a talon, “If one asks to be heard, those willing to hear it are only a step away.” He flicked his gaze at her as he added, “Even somewhere far away, like the Twisting Nether.”

“Why were you listening?” the little High Elf asked. “Why did you choose  _me?_ ”

Another shrug before the imp said, popping the mushroom into its mouth, “Your incantation stuck with me.”

Swallowing hard past the lump in her throat, she waited to see what the imp would do, curiosity and anxiousness washing over her in waves as she asked, “What is your name?”

Pausing with another mushroom to its lips, the demon slowly put its hand down before murmuring, its voice low, “Do you know what you ask of me?”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the question, but she couldn’t really understand why.

 _She’d never gotten this far, either._  Not with her parents supervising her rituals, and certainly never witnessing  _their_  summons. Was it even polite to make conversation before a pact was made? Had she already messed this ritual up? Would she be denied a minion forever now due to her prying?

“It’s good manners to introduce yourself to someone new,” the child replied simply, rocking back on her heels as she spoke, her eyes fluttering to the ground for a moment. “I d-didn’t want to be rude.” Though the demon chuckled, its eyes held something humorless within them that kept the hairs on the little elf’s neck standing on edge.

“Quite right,” the imp finally stated, popping the second mushroom into its mouth quickly. “You don’t want to be rude to a new friend, would you?” Holding its hand out to her, it stated, “How _urgently_  do you want to know my name?”

Automatically, she threw her hand out to give the demon’s hand a shake, only stopping when the lights emitting from her circle grew brighter when she approached the imp. For a moment she stared at the circle, her brows furrowed, wondering  _why_  she had this awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

A brief pause stretched between them, the imp’s hand still outstretched in wait. “What’s the matter?” It asked in a too-buttery voice, the scales around its mouth glittering in the rune’s light. It made her stomach flip uncomfortably.

_Why was every fiber of her being screaming at her to retract her hand?_

“I can’t shake your hand,” she stated finally, dumbly, pulling her hand away slowly.

The imp’s eyes narrowed sharply.

“Why not?” The hand remained outstretched, the claws of the imp unmoving despite the elongated time its hand remained up, its voice showing the strain its hand did not.

Though her parents had always warned her never to enter or dispel a protection circle until the demon had either been expelled from this plane or made a pact with her, in this moment she couldn’t remember  _why_  it was so important.

Her gaze drifted back down to the cut on her hand, from the talon she once (and probably still) thought harmless.  _Maybe there_ _’_ _s more to it than this._ Her eyes narrowed on the imp as she said slowly, “You know that you can’t exit this circle, right?”

“Obviously,” the imp crooned, its eyes still trained on the little High Elf, as if trying to figure out where she was going with her rambling.

“Then why try to reach out, if the fires would harm you?”

“Why try to contact a demon alone on your first summoning attempt?”

“It’s not my first,” she shot back, her chest puffing out. “I’ve done it before. Many, in fact.”

Finally pulling its hand back, the imp replied, its laughter more similar to a snake’s rattle than anything, “Oh? And what was so different about this time?”

Her gaze drifted back to her injured hand, her heart doing summersaults as the panic suddenly settled in.  _Maybe she really was in over her head._

“What was that talon?” she asked, her tone suddenly frigid as things started to click.

“Like I would ever tell you,” it replied quietly, though less of a challenge and more of a defense.

Looking down at her wood ash pouch, the young warlock grasped it tightly in her injured hand, feeling the imp’s eyes watching her like a strung-out fiend as she reopened the barely scabbed-over wound.

"What are you doing?" the imp questioned, its voice still low as its eyes flickered to her hand.

Quickly, she recited her fire spell, igniting the entire purse on fire. She didn’t have anything connecting the inside of the circle to this world save for two things, and she hoped her idea would work.

The High Elf had maybe a minute, tops, before the fire would burn her fingers; she had to work fast, and prayed she was not wrong about this.

Giving the pouch a tentative squeeze, seeing the circle’s light mimic her movements, the little High Elf answered, “I may be a new study, but I’m a fast learner.” The imp hissed as she gave another, tighter squeeze to the pouch, the rune’s light surrounding the demon’s body coming dangerously and uncomfortably close to its skin.

“Let’s not get too hasty,” the demon sputtered, another hiss escaping its lips as the young elf squeezed a third time. “You didn’t go through this trouble  _by yourself_ to summon me for nothing, right? What is it you wanted of me?”

Blinking slowly, watching the imp, the child released the alit pouch before saying, “I wanted to have my own minion. To—to be a  _real_  warlock.”

Rolling its shoulders, touching bits of its scaled skin where it was burned, the imp stated, “Well you’re creating one  _Hell_  of a first impression, kid.”

“What is it you want in this world, more than anything?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even as she began to feel the warmth of the flames in her palm.

It wouldn’t answer her immediately, so she gave the pouch another squeeze, singing another part of its scaled skin. With a yelp, it exclaimed, “Gluttony!”

“The act?” she asked, squinting in thought. How could she achieve gluttony on a scale to fulfill a demon?

Shaking its head, giving the newly burned skin a careful once-over with an agitated gaze, the imp replied, “Food isn’t regarded as an art-form where I come from. It’s mostly bones and scraps of bones, and just—” It shuddered, shaking its head once more as it asserted, “I want as much as I can eat, no questions asked. All for myself, no sharing, and — most importantly —  _I don’t tip_.”

After a moment of reflection, the little High Elf asked, her volume lowered, “ _Really?_ That's all you want from me?”

“ _No_  questions,” the imp repeated, its eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Okay, alright,  _no questions_ ,” the young warlock said, holding her hands open in defense. “I just want to know one thing, though.”

Its eyes narrowed for a moment before it nodded. “Not like I have a choice,” it said, sighing, still rubbing its seared skin.

She almost wanted to apologize, but could feel her own skin beginning to melt under the flame’s wrath, so she held it off for now. She had to finish this quickly. “In exchange for your help, all I have to give you is whatever you want to eat?”

It snorted, rolling its eyes. “Never heard of a pact being called  _help_ , but—” it shrugged nonchalantly, laughing, “—whatever floats your boat, kid. That’s the deal.” The twinkling in its eyes was gone as it spoke. It looked almost scared, if only for a moment. Or perhaps it was the light? “Do we have an accord?”

Leaning over the protection circle, the child extended her fire-engulfed hand through the protections as she said, clasping the demon’s hand firmly as she met its gaze, “For as long as I live.”

Golden eyes seared into one another as the flames snaked up each other’s arms, a scream bubbling in the child’s throat as the demon snarled in its own pain. The fire wove runes into their skin that were similar to the ones she etched onto her bedroom floor  _(yet, so different_ ) _,_  burning white hot into their flesh as their contract became, literally, binding.

She held on for as long as she could before another detonation blew the summoning circle apart, and with it their physical connection. The light that had been illuminating the room from the circle vanished with its explosion, drowning the room once more in the darkness of the night.

Though she was not flown very far, it felt as if she’d fallen from a galloping hawkstrider. Her entire body  _ached_  on the side she had fallen on, and knew if she didn’t take care immediately, the skin would start to bruise.

 _Not like she wouldn’t already have so much to explain to her parents._ They would  _kill_  her if they found out she nearly exploded her bedroom ( _twice!!_ ) in flames, one from the demon’s realm and another from her own stupidity.

The little High Elf had to be more careful.

Standing up, she took a quick glance around the room to find the silhouette of the imp on the floor, almost unable to differentiate the imp from the darkness save for the sheen of its scales in the limited moonlight still lazily drifting through her window.

“Hey,” it groaned when it met her gaze. “Who the Hell taught you to make deals like that? You nearly blew us back through the portal with that move.”

“You were the one who wanted to shake hands first!” she shot back, huffing.

With a quick flip onto her vanity, the imp hissed, its eyes staring the only thing she could see of the demon, “Not with a literal holy fire coating your arm!”

Oh.

“You should have stopped me, then,” the child pouted, feeling her face burning.

“Yeah,  _right_ ,” the demon laughed, shaking its head. “Between the wood ash and the talon of Mannoroth you had for this, I don’t want to get on your bad side. And stopping your soon-to-be master is one of the rules we simpletons follow.” It shrugged, looking at itself in the vanity’s reflection. “You know.  _Demonology_  and all that.”

 _Mannoroth?_ Even thinking the name sent shivers down her spine, though she did not know who it belonged to.

“Now, then,” the imp chirped, hopping off the vanity. “Let’s go get our first-midnight snack. I’m  _starving_.”

Flipping her carpet back over the pile of ash left on the floor from her summoning, the young warlock promised herself she would look for the talon later, too tired to argue with the imp.

The talon should be safe, especially in her room.

It wasn’t like she couldn’t handle herself, she rationalized, leading the imp through her manor to the kitchen. She was now a full-fledged warlock, with her own demon and  _everything_.

She could face whatever threw itself her way, especially if the talon’s worst quality was being deceptively sharp.

**Author's Note:**

> Nezzrra and Sungrisk are my (and my boyfriend's) World of Warcraft characters. I post about them and some little stories on my tumblr, where our other characters are featured. This is the first in a series of interconnected stories that play out on my tumblr, and hopefully will make more sense when I actually write out their stories.
> 
> http://acquisitive-adventurers.tumblr.com/


End file.
